


Under The Stars (Heaven Is Not So Far)

by starryeyedkids



Series: Magic!HL AUs [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A little, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Dirty Talk, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, Hopeful Ending, Introspection, M/M, Magic, Magic Louis Tomlinson, Magic-Users, Nipple Play, Prince Harry Styles, Smut, Tent Sex, Top Harry, Top Louis, Unsafe Sex, a lot of reflecting and musing about magic, magic!louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:24:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyedkids/pseuds/starryeyedkids
Summary: “I want to be with you.” Harry's words were softer than a wisp of air.“I want to be with you, too.” Louis said. He felt as though he was clawing his chest open and showing his tender and vulnerable insides. “But, Harry, we were never supposed to meet. Much less have this,” Louis said, waving his hand around to encompass their little bubble: the tent, the lake and themselves."I don’t think we can have more than this." Louis continued, his voice soft.**Louis is a magicker who has left his home and family, his duties and responsibilities to travel and to seek answers about his magic.Harry is a prince who will never be able to throw away his duties that come with his position and his very name.They were never supposed to be anything, but they are something now, and they have to decide if they can be something more.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part in my Magic!HL AUs series with Magic! Louis. This is a standalone fic, and is unconnected to the first part. ( ~~Though you should totally read the first part too.~~ )
> 
> The title comes from John Legend's Under The Stars.
> 
> Thanks [K](http://hazillions.tumblr.com/) for looking over this fic.

It was the screech of a hawk that made Louis look up from his dusty shoes as he plodded through a dusty street. The hawk screeched again as it circled above his head. Louis shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun with his hand, and squinted up at the hawk, his heart simultaneously soaring and plummeting. The hawk dropped a scroll a few feet ahead of Louis, and then flew towards a scraggly tree.

Louis’ heart lurched as he walked towards the scroll, his stomach clenched with nerves.  Louis bent down to pick up the scroll; his fingers shook as he untied the thread and opened it. The non-descript scroll had Harry’s familiar scrawl: ‘Where are you?’

Louis was surprised. He had assumed that Harry had written to him to inform Louis about his impending nuptials. Harry was courteous like that. But, this message, their secret signal in a way, bewildered Louis.

 It had been months since he had last met Harry, and as time had passed, Louis had been quite sure that the search for a spouse for Harry was in full swing. Apparently not. Louis traced the loops and dips of Harry’s handwriting with his fingers, lingering on the word beside the question mark that was stricken out. Louis wondered what Harry had meant to write. Like a lot of questions concerning Harry, this, too would remain unanswered.

Louis wondered whether Harry’s courtesy extended to meeting Louis personally to break the news. The thought soured the very blood in Louis’ veins, but the thought of meeting Harry again after nearly five months of no contact made his blood spark and race in excitement. The scroll crumpled between his fingers as he clenched them in a flare of irritation.

A ruffle of feathers caught Louis’ attention. Louis looked at the hawk that was sitting on a bare branch of the tree. It looked a little impatient, and also very murderous, so Louis rummaged through his rucksack in search of something to write with. He found a bit of chalk, left over from his days of being a tailor’s assistant.

With the chalk in hand and the scroll before him; Louis suddenly found that he had no idea what he wanted write. He could send the scroll back without writing anything, and Harry would understand that Louis didn’t want to meet him, but the thing was; Louis _did_ want to meet him. But at the same time, Louis didn’t want to meet Harry for the fear that it would be their last meeting.

It struck him then; a cold, clear understanding that he was attached to Harry. Louis froze when his jumbled, contrary feelings and thoughts vanished in a breath as his mind sought to deal with his realization. He was attached to Harry.

It wasn’t the realization that shocked him; rather it was the suddenness of it that shocked him. Somehow, over the years that he had know Harry, Louis had grown fond of him, had grown to adore him. Louis didn’t know when his feelings had changed, but, now that he thought about it, he had always known in the back of his mind that his feelings were changing. Changing in a slow, sure, subtle way.

A rivulet of sweat ran down from his brow to the tip of his nose, and dripped down on his hand. Louis touched his hair, and found it hot like burning coal. He had to find shade and water soon. Louis bit his lip in thought; the slightest shift of his feet caused his clothes to slide wetly against his skin. The hawk screeched again, a weak breeze swirled the dust around Louis’ feet. Louis rolled the chalk between his fingers, his fingers yellowing as the chalk crumbled a little.

Louis brought the chalk towards the scroll, and pressed it against the scroll. He thought about the path he had taken this far, and the path he was supposed to take. The path he was yet to take shimmered grey in his mind’s eye, and his feet sparked with a familiar urge. His fingers tingled as he drew the map, and the tips of his fingers were scorching and tender by the time he took the chalk off the scroll. The chalk marks were as sure as ink, and the lines were precise. Harry would have no trouble finding him.

Louis rolled up the scroll, and walked towards the tree. The hawk gave him a piercing, considering look before swooping down, and grabbing the scroll from Louis’ hand. Louis blinked in shock, and stared up at the hawk as it flew away, already a distant speck in the sky.

Louis resumed his journey. In the beginning, when they had just started meeting each other like this; Louis waited for Harry to show up. He didn’t do that now, instead he kept moving, and Harry would manage to find him. He had the advantage of being on horseback after all.

He found himself unsettled, however, too preoccupied by his tentative decision, and his ruminations over the impact his decision would have to really enjoy the journey. His decision seemed rash, and seemed to be based more on irritation and well, a smidgen of desperation to be actually called rational. But, it was the only thing that Louis could think of that would end up in the least amount of heart break for him in the long run, so he decided to stick to it.

For the first time ever, Louis found himself feeling unexcited about Harry’s visit. He was dreading it because this seemed like the beginning of the end. He had decided that he would be frank, and that he would talk honestly to Harry. He would deal with whatever resulted from their discussion as maturely as he could, though he was already steeling himself for heart break. There weren’t many ways this could end in, after all.

Louis pushed his thoughts away and instead tried to focus on finding a nice spot where he could have his lunch. He couldn’t afford to meander anymore; he had to find the lake before he ran out of water, and he knew that he was still quite a bit away from it. This was a long, desolate stretch between villages, so public water booths were out of the question.

He ate his lunch under the shade of a dusty tree that didn’t really filter out much of the heat. He ate with one hand, and tried to control his out of control sweating with the other. The bread and honey he was eating felt unpleasantly dry and heavy in his mouth, the water in his canteen was lukewarm, and he was hot, sweaty, dusty and exhausted. Any romance or mystery that he had ever attached to being a traveller had been burned out by the second month of his journey. He had long since learned that being a traveller was the least romantic occupation in the world.

Louis took off his shirt, and continued on his way in his short sleeved undershirt. Though he had done this for the past few days, he still felt scandalous for exposing his biceps and arms like this. Not many people passed this way, and even if they did, Louis was unlikely to meet them and face their disapproval again, but he usually ended up putting on his shirt some time after his skin had cooled a little.

As he plodded through the shimmering heat, and the dusty road, he desperately wished he was somewhere colder; somewhere he could freeze into a block of ice for a while before thawing. But then again, he had once worked in a hillside village and had loathed the cold. He preferred milder climates, alright.

By the time the sun dipped beneath the horizon, Louis had covered quite a lot of distance. His feet were sore, his eyes felt heavy, and he could feel a blister forming on his heel. Louis also stank to high heavens, but since he had no desire to see if mud baths were effective, he would have to wait until he got to the lake.

Louis started a fire quickly and efficiently, and he beamed at the cheery, crackling fire for a moment. He had spent days in the cold, trying and failing to start a fire, and if he managed to do that, he couldn’t keep it going for long.

Louis’ smile faded as he recalled those terrible days when he was unprepared and unable to deal with the sudden, insatiable, untouchable, fiery _burn_ within him. Louis sometimes thought that his magic was like oil; it had oozed and slithered towards his simmering hopes and wishes and had set them ablaze, and Louis could no longer ignore their roar.

A spark from the fire drew Louis out of thoughts. He shook his head, and dampened a piece of cloth with the water from his canteen and wiped his face and neck. He ate without tasting his meal, and then spread out a sheet on the grass before lying down on it. It was twilight still, but Louis felt as though his eyes were weighed down with anchors for it seemed impossible to keep them open. The fire warmed his side, and he felt toasty in the cool evening air. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

 He woke up cursing when the millionth mosquito stung him. _‘I must’ve fed an entire army of those little bastards.’_ He thought, as he sleepily poked at the bumps on his hands. His face itched, too, but thankfully he hadn’t removed his shoes, so the mosquitoes hadn’t bitten him between the webbing of his toes. That was the worst kind of torture.

Louis glanced up at the sky, and then sucked in an amazed breath, for the sky looked magnificent. It was divine and endless, dark but with scores of twinkling stars. For a moment Louis was back in his father’s vineyard, and was surrounded by sisters on the roof, the centre of rapt of attention as he told  tales of ghosts and witches under the light of a full moon. But then the illusion broke, and he was back in the forest, surrounded by a fire and his wonky tent, a travelling magicker and not the heir of a wine maker.

Something squeezed his heart, but Louis ignored the sudden clenching pain, and dragged himself and the sheet into the tent. A quiet sort of weariness settled on him, nearly smothering him. Louis didn’t know what to do with that, because it all came back to his magic and Louis still wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

 _‘Magic isn’t a gift or a curse. It just is, and you have to learn to work with it.’_ Adira’s voice echoed in his ears.  Louis rubbed his sore fingertips. Three years and he still couldn’t use magic without burning his fingers. That was the matter wasn’t it; he still didn’t know how to work with it.

Louis closed his eyes, and started counting to distract his mind. It worked, but it took a long time for Louis to fall asleep again.

**

His mood didn’t change the next day either. He rekindled the fire, pissed, ate, and packed up mechanically before resuming his journey. The morning was still cool; the sun was merely a ball of light in the sky, and not a source of unending, miserable heat yet. Louis breathed in deeply, and the pure, fresh air rejuvenated him, and put a spring in his step. Yet, he still felt bogged down by the weight of his thoughts.

This was something that Louis had often noticed; he became more pensive and introspective after any interaction with Harry. Perhaps it was because Harry was an introspective, philosophical sort of person, and his way of thinking rubbed off on Louis for a short while, but Louis thought that it was the oddness of their situation that made him mull over things.

After all, they were in the oddest situation one could possibly be in: a magicker and a prince who were lovers, who could never be together for Louis could never stay in one place, and Harry would never be able to throw away his duties that came with his position and his very name. And that was the crux of the whole issue, the thing that they _had_ to talk about this time, the thing that they never talked about even as they spoke about deep things, soul baring things, and everything else all the other times. They always ignored the gigantic elephant that stood before them.

Louis had quite a lot of experience with thoughts that took hold of one’s mind, and steeped until they were dark and bitter like sludge; he had long, endless miles to get acquainted with them. He decided to take the advice of a lady who had travelled with him for a few days, and he started singing.

It was a bawdy ribald that he had heard in a cheap tavern that he had gone to one day. A stooped, old man had walked up to the makeshift podium, and in a querulous voice had started reciting a piece where all the sentences ended with a word that rhymed with ‘cock’. It wasn’t poetry by any means, but Louis was impressed none the less. So, Louis hummed a ditty about Tom who had something beneath his smock, which turned out to be his massive cock, that was hard round the clock, but there was nary a Mary around in a nice frock.

Louis reached the lake by late afternoon, and he took out his canteens to fill them up with water. He then set up camp quickly before stripping out of his clothes and wading into the lake. The water was warm, and it felt wonderful against Louis’ sore muscles. Sunlight glinted off the water, and except for the breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees and the chirp of birds, there was no other sound. Louis basked in the warmth and the silence, his muscles relaxing and his mind calming down.

He started scrubbing himself with the herb mixture for baths that was sold at apothecaries in all the towns. It didn’t smell all that great, but it kept the lice and crabs at bay, so Louis used it diligently. After he was finished bathing, he dried himself and pulled on his trousers though he didn’t put on his shirt. He didn’t fancy getting sweaty after he had just finished bathing, and there wasn’t anyone around to complain about him to the Queen’s men anyway.

After he had finished with his lunch, Louis set about making traps. He had gone long enough without any meat, and he was going to scream if he was forced to eat bread and honey again. Louis’ afternoon passed in setting up the traps, and he fervently hoped that he caught at least one rabbit before dinner. Louis also collected firewood, and placed it near his tent. Louis then went inside his tent to take a nap.

He woke up sometime later to the sound of hoof beats. Louis blinked rapidly to clear the vestiges of sleep from his eyes, and sat up to pull on his under shirt. It was probably a merchant, Louis thought as he buttoned up his shirt, and he wanted to size up whoever it was. Maybe they would turn out to be good company. Louis tried to flatten his hair as he walked out of his tent. His heart skipped a beat, and then started thundering as excitement jolted through him and anticipation pooled hot in his belly. On the very familiar horse was a very familiar figure: Harry.

Louis hadn’t expected Harry to find him so soon, had thought that he had at least a week if not more before Harry arrived. But here Harry was, tall and elegant in his riding clothes, sweaty and tired as he dismounted his horse, bashful and pleased as he walked up to Louis.

“Hello, Louis.” Harry said.

The sound of his deep, rough voice twisted Louis’ heart, and he swallowed. “Hello.” Louis said, his eyes never leaving Harry’s face.

Harry was looking at him, too, Louis noticed. Louis felt a slight flush creep up his cheeks at the steady, intense scrutiny, but Louis didn’t look away because he was still cataloguing all the changes in Harry, the changes he had undergone in the five months that Louis hadn’t seen him.

Harry was bigger and broader around his shoulders, the shadows under his eyes were deeper, and he had trimmed his hair, so that it touched his shoulder, but didn’t go below it. He didn’t look all that different, and for a foolish moment something eased within Louis because it was as though Harry hadn’t changed much, as though he was the same as he was five months before. That was an utterly foolish and idiotic thought of course; Louis didn’t know one bit of what Harry had been doing for five months.

Louis gasped in surprise when Harry moved two steps forward, and cupped his face to kiss him. Louis kissed back immediately, melting into the familiar movement. Harry’s lips are warm and familiar against his, and Louis deepened the kiss, his fingers tangling in Harry’s hair. Louis kissed him for some time, and his hands roamed down Harry’s back to his bum. Louis squeezed Harry’s arse and pulled him closer so that their hips lined up. Louis’ cock was filling up, and he broke the kiss to nibble down the sharp line of Harry’s jaw.

“Lou, wait.” Harry said, his voice wavering as he took in a shaky breath.

“What?” Louis said, detaching his lips from Harry’s jaw. He didn’t stop groping Harry’s arse though; his bum felt amazing under Louis’ hands.

Harry laughed and stepped out of Louis’ space. “I’ve been riding continuously for a day, Lou. I smell rank. Let me wash myself first.”

“Well then hurry up!” Louis shooed Harry. He felt warm as they fell into their familiar pattern of interacting; any sort of awkwardness that came along with meeting a person for the first time in some months already dissipating.

Louis sat down near his tent, and watched as Harry led his horse to a tree and tied it up then unpacked his things. Louis stuck his tongue out at Harry when he ruffled Louis’ hair as he passed him on the way to the tent. Harry pushed his belongings inside the tent, and then started stripping off his clothes. Louis wolf whistled and leered openly. Harry struck a pose, thrusting his hip out and curling his biceps, and it was supposed to be comedic, but Louis felt his cock twitch as he ran his eyes down Harry’s body, his eyes lingering on the new etchings on Harry’s hips.

“You’re ever the gentleman, Lou.” Harry teased.

Louis made a crude gesture, and Harry shook his head before walking towards the lake. Louis stared at the rippling muscles of Harry’s back, his bum, and his long legs. He smiled fondly when Harry stumbled over thin air on the way to the lake, and pin wheeled his arms to right himself. Harry waded into the water, and Louis looked away, deciding to give him some privacy as he bathed.

Harry might not have changed much in five months, but compared to when Louis had first met him, he had changed tremendously. He was no longer cherubic and pink cheeked, and his voice had been deep then, too, but had lacked the authoritative, steely edge that Harry’s voice had now. It was so long ago, nearly three years now since he had met Harry.

Louis could remember that moustachioed brute of a soldier who had taken offence to Louis’ crack about his manners and his brains when the soldier had drunkenly knocked a little girl aside as he stumbled through the streets. The soldier’s rant was cut off when a boy had stepped forward, and ordered the soldier to go back to the barracks.

One look at the boy’s ornately embroidered coat was enough to let Louis know that this boy was obviously from a noble family, maybe even from the royal family itself. The soldier’s grudging, “Yes, your highness,” confirmed the boy’s royal status. As far as Louis knew, the nobility were referred to as lords, and not as highness.

Louis turned to the prince, and bowed stiffly, murmuring, “Thank you, your highness,” before walking backwards. He didn’t want to be in the prince’s presence for long because Louis knew that whenever he was in the presence of beautiful people, he became obnoxious and ended up embarrassing himself. He didn’t really want to have the distinction of embarrassing himself before the prince.

Louis had come to this town when he had heard that the soldiers were going to train here for a month. Catering to a bunch of soldiers for a month was a difficult task, and Louis knew that there would be a lot of odd jobs for his taking here. Louis was quite sure that by the time the soldiers left, he would have a neat sum of money that would tide him over for two months at least, if he used it judiciously.

His magic had begun flaring up again, hot beneath his skin, drumming beneath his fingertips, but thankfully it had settled down by the time he had run into the prince a few days later. Louis didn’t think the prince would appreciate having his hair burned off by errant magic.  

Louis ran into Harry coincidentally a few times after their second meeting, and then he started planning coincidental run-ins with Harry.

They had flirted in a silly, embarrassing way that was characteristic of the youth that age, and by the end of the month, Louis was staring at Harry with wide eyes as he slicked his fingers with some sort of oil.

“You’ll go slowly, won’t you?” Louis had asked, trembling a bit with excitement as well as nerves.

“Of course. I haven’t done this much before, only twice, so if I do something wrong then do tell me.”

Louis nodded, relaxing a bit. “At least you admitted that you aren’t very experienced. One bloke I was with spoke as though he was some ancient god of sex come alive, but he had no idea what he was doing.”

Harry patted his hip soothingly. “I’ll go slowly.” He said. “May I?” Harry asked as he brushed his slick finger over Louis’ hole.

Louis had laughed and nodded, and keened when Harry pushed his finger in slowly. When Harry had worked his cock in after loosening Louis up for what seemed like hours, he had linked his fingers with Louis’, and had pressed soothing kisses to Louis’ nape as Louis got used to the stretch. Harry had rocked into him slowly, and had only started pounding into Louis after he had whined incessantly, his fingers scratching down Harry’s back.

Two days later, Harry was set to leave with his soldiers, and he had shyly asked Louis if he was interested in keeping touch with him. That was the first time that Louis had ever used his magic after it had blossomed within him a few months prior. Louis had channelled it, and had poured it out and weaved it through a leather bracelet. It was foreign, unlikable sensation, his magic was, and it had burned and hurt like hell, his hand blistering as Louis forced his magic out.

Nonetheless he had persisted, and had given the finished product to Harry, telling him that this would help him find Louis. Louis had also weaved his magic through another bracelet along with information about how it worked, and had sent it to his family in hopes that they would come and meet him.

Three weeks later, a hawk had dropped a scroll on his head. Louis had unrolled the scroll to find Harry seeking permission to come meet him, and his location along with Harry’s official seal. Louis had given him permission, and had drawn out his location; something would become a ritual as time passed. When he had offered the scroll to the waiting hawk, he had noticed the bracelet looped on its ankle.

Louis told Harry that he didn’t need to seek permission to come meet him, but Harry had shaken his head. He didn’t want to impose on Louis, didn’t want to come when his presence was unwanted. Affection had hit Louis like a brick. By the time a year passed, he had met Harry half a dozen times, but hadn’t heard from nor seen his family since the day he had left home.

Not that he could blame them, Louis reflected, his mind coming back to the present. Magickers weren’t discriminated against under the Queen’s rule, but there was stigma attached to them in society. Mostly because when magic first blossomed, it was wild and unpredictable, and it took a lot of time to control. But in Louis’ case, he had left his home, giving into the burning desire that his magic had created. He had left his home and family, his duties and responsibilities to travel and to seek answers about his magic. It was an anathema in a society that valued all of the above, and Louis knew that as the news of him being a magicker spread in his village, it must’ve caused his father massive embarrassment.

Louis never told anyone that he was magicker; when he went to a village, and when they asked him why he had come here, his standard yarn was that he was a poet, and that he was travelling the country in search of inspiration. Poets had good standing these days, mostly because of Harry’s patronage, and Louis was usually given a warm welcome. He seemed to have a knack for it, too, and his little rhymes and songs got him applause when he recited them during a village meeting.

Louis eyes were focused on Harry’s face, and it took his brain a brain a few moments to comprehend what he was seeing. Louis started and grinned sheepishly at Harry, who looked at him with an amused expression.

“You were quite lost in your thoughts. Do you want to share them?” Harry said.

Harry was wearing a ridiculous, crumpled silk robe that stuck to the damp patches on his skin, and moulded over his half hard cock, and his hardened nipples. He looked adorable and sinful, and Louis leapt up to his feet to kiss Harry hard. Louis groaned when Harry pushed his tongue in, and swept it across Louis’ tongue. Harry’s lips felt soft and lush against Louis, his mouth tasted like those mint leaves that Harry kept chewing for whatever reason.

Louis whined in irritation when Harry pulled back, and he tried pulling Harry back, but Harry shook his head. “Tent. Let’s go into the tent.” Harry said, and the roughness in his voice sent a bolt of arousal and pride shooting through Louis at having affected Harry already.

Louis scrambled to get inside the tent, and as he got on his hands and knees to crawl inside the tent, Harry slapped his arse. Louis yelped, and turned around to glare at Harry, who just waggled his eyebrows before slapping Louis’ bum again. Louis’ cock twitched.

“Harry! Wait till we get inside the tent!” Louis said.

“Hurry up then.” Harry drawled, his lips curved in a wicked smirk.

The tent was small as it was, and with two grown men undressing in it, the tent was positively tiny and cramped. Harry’s elbows knocked hard against Louis’ ribs as he tried to peel off the silk robe, and Louis lost his balance thrice in the time it took him to take off his shirt. Harry flopped down on the floor, and bent his knees, his cock hard against his hip.

“You could help me out you know, you lazy bugger.” Louis said. His fingers kept slipping off the buttons of his undershirt because he was too entranced by the sight of Harry tugging at his cock.

“I’ll let you know that I’m never lazy when I’m buggering.” Harry said with a dazzling grin, lazily thumbing at the rosy tip of his cock. Louis threw his undershirt at Harry’s face, but Harry batted it away with ease. “Besides, I want to see you getting out of those trousers.”

Louis narrowed his eyes. There was no earthly way Louis could take off his trousers in an enchanting, graceful way when Harry was taking up most of the space in the tent with his stupidly elongated body, and the rest of the space was taken up by sundry items. Louis was on his knees, and he undid the knot holding up his trousers before pushing it down till the middle of his thighs. He then sat down on his bare arse, and started tugging his trousers down, his legs flailing wildly. Finally, he managed to get them off.

“I’m surprised you didn’t upend the tent.” Harry grinned up at Louis, as he crawled on top of Harry.

“Shut up.” Louis said, and he leaned down to kiss Harry.

There was something about kissing Harry that always left Louis insatiable and reeling. Perhaps it was the sheer lushness of Harry’s lips; they were as soft a petal, or perhaps it was his skill; Harry was nibbling on Louis’ bottom lip in a way that made Louis’ toes curl, or maybe it was Harry’s enthusiasm, the way it was obvious that he was enjoying himself.

 Harry was groaning softly in the back of his throat, and his breath quickened when Louis broke the kiss to trail kisses down Harry’s neck. Louis sucked on Harry’s thundering pulse, and nipped marks on the tender skin. Harry’s skin smelled like sandalwood; of course Harry could afford the fancier herb mixtures and oils. Louis buried his nose in the crook of Harry’s neck to breath in the scent more deeply.

Louis moaned at the brief sting of pain when Harry dragged his nails down his back. Harry’s hands cupped Louis’s arse, and when he rocked against Louis, Louis muffled an embarrassingly loud moan by biting down on the crook of Harry’s neck. The slide of Harry’s cock against his own felt wonderful, and it left him feeling breathless and desperate. Louis ground his hips down to get more friction while his fingers were busy pinching Harry’s nipples. Louis could feel the vibrations of Harry’s deep, deep moan beneath his palms. Louis was leaking steadily now, and the smooth glide of their cocks made pleasure pool thick and hot in his belly.

“I thought we were going to do something more than just rut against each other.” Harry panted though he made no move to let go of Louis.

“This feels amazing, too. I wouldn’t mind getting off like this.” Louis said.

“No. No. Lou...wait.” Harry said, gripping Louis’ hips to still him.

Louis grumbled, but he stilled his movements. His eyes lingered on the dark red mark that stood stark on the crook of Harry’s neck. Louis’ teeth marks were visible, and he traced the indents of his teeth, feeling mesmerised. He gasped when Harry pinched his nipples.

“I want you to fuck me. I want your cock inside me. I’ve been thinking about you fucking me since the moment I got your reply.” Harry said as he languidly rolled Louis’ nipples between his fingers.

Louis couldn’t form words, lost as he was in a fog of arousal as pleasure prickled down from his nipples to his cock. Louis wondered if Harry would tug and pinch his nipples until they were sore and throbbing, and the thought of it, the thought of being pinned down as Harry slowly and methodically went about torturing his nipples was too much. Louis reached a hand down to grip the base of his cock.

“Did you hear what I said?” Harry demanded, tugging hard at Louis’ nipples.

“God!” Louis yelped. “Yes, yes, I did.” Louis took in a shaky, shallow breath, and tried to order his thoughts. “Such a deviant; thinking about being fucked as you rode through the countryside, greeting citizens.” Louis teased.

Louis was trembling now; the beat of his heart was rapid and heavy. Louis’ cock was mess, flushed, wet and heavy and his balls were drawn up tight. A bead of sweat itched as it rolled down his back. Louis felt overwhelmed and uncontrolled, his skin too tight, and his mind too scrambled.

“Did you think about my cock splitting you open, stretching your little hole until it ached? That’s what you thought about didn’t you? You thought about how sore you would be, and how tender your hole would be, and how you would still insist on being fucked because you like the pain.” Louis growled out.

Harry’s eyes darkened; the moan that exploded out of him reverberated inside the tiny tent, and shot straight to Louis’ cock. Louis stumbled back when Harry pushed his shoulder.

“Go. Go get the oil. Quickly!” Harry barked, his voice rough, deep, and desperate.

Louis scrambled towards Harry’s rucksack, his feet tangling in the discarded clothes. Louis fingers were clumsy as he rummaged through the odds and ends in Harry’s rucksack to find the bottle of oil. He finally found it, and without bothering to put Harry’s things back in, he went towards Harry.

In the dim evening light, Harry looked like a work of art. What little light filtered in through the fabric of the tent glinted off the sheen of sweat that had pooled on the ridges of Harry’s chest. Harry was panting, and his right hand was on his cock, his left hand pinched his nipples. The etchings on Harry’s skin looked like dark smudges on his pale skin, shifting as his muscles rippled with his movements.

Louis crawled towards Harry, and slapped his hands away. “Turn over.” He said, and fumbled with the oil. His heart felt heavy like a sack of bricks; he felt as though his chest was going to cave in under its weight. What an importunate moment for his thoughts to come creeping through the fog of lust that addled his brain.

Harry must have felt Louis’ mood dampen because he turned his head to the side to look at Louis. “Is something wrong?” He said; his voice was concerned.

“Not at all.” Louis said. His traced a wet finger over Harry’s hole, groaning as Harry pushed back immediately, hot and tight against Louis’ finger.

Louis pushed away his thoughts, and focused on the wanton picture that Harry made; his knees wide apart, the rippling muscles of his back as he rode back on Louis’ finger. By the time he was stretching Harry with three fingers, he was desperate to get inside Harry, and the heat in his belly was coalescing into something solid, the pressure of it building up within him.

Louis set a brutal pace; he gripped Harry’s hips and pulled him back on his cock with roughly, enjoying the filthy, slick slap of skin on skin. Louis then draped himself over Harry’s back, and grinded his hips so that the constant pressure on Harry’s prostate made him scream. Louis was sucking a mark behind Harry’s ear, and thrusting in with shallow, short strokes when Harry spoke.

“I thought about you a lot.” He said.

Louis scrapped his teeth on the sensitive skin, and placed a brief kiss there before pulling away. “We’ve already established that haven’t we? You thought about my cock all the time.” Louis whispered in Harry’s ear, and felt Harry shiver beneath him.

“No. I mean, I thought a lot about _you_. You as in, er, you as a whole? And not, I mean,” Harry rambled, flustered and embarrassed.

“Oh.” Louis said. “I did, too. In the back of my mind. I- I always thought of you.” Louis said, and he hoped that Harry would write off the waver in his voice as him being close to coming.

Louis linked his fingers with Harry’s, and he increased the pace of his thrusts. Harry made garbled, incoherent noises when Louis tugged at Harry’s cock, concentrating on the head. Harry came with a guttural groan, spilling hot over Louis’ hand, and Louis pulled out to get himself off. Louis came all over Harry’s arse, and his softening cock twitched slightly when he saw the flutter of Harry’s glistening hole.

“It’s irritating.” Harry said, wiggling his bum. “It’s sliding down my thighs.” Harry said in an aggravated voice. He reached a hand out, picked up the first piece of cloth he could get his hand on which was his silk robe.

Louis watched with horror. “What are you doing?” He shrieked. “That’s blasphemy! You don’t have the royal army of clothes washers at your disposal here, you know. And I don’t even want to know how much that thing cost!”

“It was a gift.” Harry grumbled, but he put away the silk robe, and instead used Louis’ undershirt to clean himself up. Louis shook his head. Honestly, the vagaries of the rich were horrifying.

Louis dampened the undershirt with water from his canteen, and cleaned himself up before flopping down beside Harry. Harry immediately threw his leg and arm over Louis, and cuddled closer. He was warm, sweaty and solid against Louis, and as Louis drifted off, he wondered if this was going to be the last time he could be with Harry like this.

**

Louis woke up some time later to utter darkness, and ravenous hunger. Louis shifted, carefully removing his hand from Harry’s chest. Sometime in the night, Harry had rolled onto his side, and Louis had plastered his chest to Harry’s back. The moment Louis untangled his legs from Harry’s; Harry’s voice rang out, disgruntled and slurred.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m hungry. Go back to sleep.” Louis said.

Harry grumbled, sounding put off by the fact that he wouldn’t be cuddled anymore. Louis smiled fondly, and he looked for his clothes, trying to make as little noise as possible. He found his trousers and shirt after what seemed like hours. He decided to get dressed outside the tent; it turned out to be a wise decision because getting dressed in the dark was more complicated than it seemed. He wouldn’t have fared well in the cramped tent.

It was a moonless night; the sky was clear and the stars were endless. Louis breathed in deeply, taking in the raw, pure scent of the forest. In moments like these, Louis felt an indescribable sort of emotion; a sort of emotion that he had never been able to put into words though he had often tried to bring it out in his songs, so that he could share it with others. It came out sounding all wrong, so Louis ended up discarding it.

What he felt was something akin to revelling in your smallness in front of something magnificent and wondrous, something infinite and bigger than you. He was dazzled by the wonder of the vast sky, the endless forest and the unfathomable lake. Louis made a note of it in his mind, deciding to put it down in writing the moment he came across some parchment and ink.

Louis was glad that he had collected firewood in the afternoon itself because he didn’t fancy traipsing through the forest in search of firewood at night. Though he had been travelling for three years now, the sheer darkness that permeated the countryside still shocked him sometimes. Back in his hometown, the darkness was kept at bay with an army of lamp lighters and barrels of kerosene. But then again, his hometown was a bustling merchant centre, and could afford to keep its roads lighted through the night.

He managed to light a fire after dropping the wood twice, nicking his fingers on the rough wood five times, and failing ten times. Louis thought about how if he stretched the truth a little, and put in some self deprecating humour, this would make a nice tale for when he went to a traveller’s inn next time. Louis was a little horrified when he realized that he had become one of those weathered, sun beaten travellers who thought up tales when they camped, and then when they were at a traveller’s inn, they unloaded it all at once. Usually at the same time as others, and in the loudest voice they could muster.

Harry stumbled out from the tent wearing his trousers and silk robe. He sat down beside Louis, and stretched his arms up, his shoulders cracking. Louis leaned into Harry’s side.

“What have you got to eat?” Harry asked.

“Bread and honey.” Louis said, and took it out from his rucksack. He divided the portions and handed over Harry’s share.

Harry took a bite, and chewed it while watching the fire. “Your bread’s gone a bit stale.” He said, pouring more honey over his bread.

“I’ve been eating the same thing for ages now, so I’ve forgotten what bread and honey actually tastes like.” Louis said with a shrug.

“Don’t you have something else?” Harry asked sounding concerned.

“I have set a few traps. Let’s hope I catch something. I haven’t eaten meat in _weeks_.” Louis said.

“If your traps are empty then I’ll hunt something for you.” Harry said.

Louis ignored the way his heart fluttered with affection. He cleared his throat. “Don’t you have anything to eat?”

“No. I didn’t pack a lot of food supplies. I’ve been hunting and foraging as I travelled.” Harry paused. “I was in a hurry.” Harry said as if he was admitting to a sin.

Dread creeped down Louis’ spine in cold, thin tendrils. He tried to keep his voice as even as he could when he said, “Why?” He asked even though he knew what the answer would be.

“Because,” Harry began and then paused. It was the sort of pause one took to steel oneself. “I’m running out of time. The Council of the Wise have been hinting about marriage.” Harry said in his prince of the kingdom, leader of the people, commander of the army voice. Flat, unemotional, precise.

There it was. Even though Louis was expecting this, it still felt like someone had taken a hammer to his head. Louis breathed in deeply. So, Harry _was_ the type of person to come and inform the man he sometimes fucked about his impending nuptials. Louis crumbled the bread between his fingers.

“So, should I congratulate you?” Louis couldn’t keep the bite out of his voice. Anger and betrayal were rising up like bile in his throat. He couldn’t help it even though he knew that the Queen and the Council made a lot of decisions for Prince Harry.

“No! No.” Harry’s voice wavered. He turned to look at Louis, but Louis stubbornly looked at the fire. “I-I have an agreement with the Council. I told them that if I could take my bachelor’s ride now, then if the deal is finalised with the King of Machlid, I would marry his son as soon as it was possible.”

The crumbled bread and honey stuck to Louis’ palm. Louis swallowed hard, trying to ignore the roaring in his ears, the sudden stillness in his mind. “Why would you do that? Why would you flout tradition like that? Bachelor rides are supposed to be taken after you’re betrothed.” Louis asked flatly. As if he cared two whits about when Harry took his bachelor ride.

“The people of Machlid look down upon it, you know. They think it’s just an excuse for deviancy before marriage. The King of Machlid would insist that there be no bachelor ride, and the Council would hem and haw and finally agree to his demands. We’re desperate to have influence over Machlid even though we behave as though we’re doing them a favour. The Council thinks having influence over a coastal kingdom would be the biggest boon for our kingdom.”

Louis shook his head. “Very fascinating. Really. Amazing how much is at play behind a prince’s marriage.” Louis blinked back tears. “It was wonderful knowing you, Harry. I hope that you’ll always be happy, and that you’ll be successful in all your endeavours.  I suppose we will be parting ways tomorrow.” Louis said, and tried to get up

“Lou.” Harry said; his voice was clogged and tears. “Lou.” He said again and his voice cracked.  He grasped at Louis’ hand. “I want to be with you.” His words were softer than a wisp of air.

Louis sank down the ground, his hands fisting the grass. It seemed so long ago, the day he had received Harry’s message. The decision he had made at that time was like a half remembered dream, disjointed and vague. Hadn’t he meant to end their arrangement? But then Harry had broken his heart by informing him about the talks that were going on about his marriage, and now Harry had obliterated his heart by telling him that he wanted to be with Louis.

Louis ripped a few strands of grass to occupy his hands. He looked at Harry, and his breath caught in his throat. Harry’s jaw was set tight in determination, and he had fire in his eyes. The flickering flames cast eerie shadows on Harry’s face, and he looked determined and gorgeous.

“I want to be with you, too.” Louis said at last. He felt as though he was clawing his chest open and showing his tender and vulnerable insides. “I never realised how much I wanted that because it was never a possibility was it? But, Harry, we were never supposed to meet. Much less have this,” Louis said, waving his hand around to encompass their little bubble: the tent, the lake and themselves.

“But we do.” Harry said.

“Yes. We do. But I don’t think we can have more than this.” Louis’ voice was soft enough that the crackle of flames drowned it out, but Harry heard him.

Harry cleared his throat. “What if we could? I mean-” Harry hesitated. “What if we, um, fought for it? As in, we’ll fight.” Harry trailed off, and casted his eyes down in embarrassment.

Louis frowned at Harry. “Are you saying that you’re going to defy the Queen and the Council?”

“Yes. No.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I meant that _we’ll_ defy the Queen and the Council. Mostly the Council. They’re bastards.” Harry paused and seemed to consider his words. “That is, if you agree to it.” Harry said in an unsure voice.

Louis didn’t know the inner workings of the Council, but in any case, defying them seemed a bit impossible and unrealistic. But, Harry seemed serious, as though he was prepared to walk up to the Queen and the Council, and tell them that he wanted to be with a magicker, and that he would not marry the prince of Machlid.

However, Harry being a prince wasn’t the only issue at hand.

“Harry,” Louis began and sighed, feeling exhausted. “I haven’t yet learned everything about my magic. My journey isn’t over yet.”

Harry was silent for a moment. “It has been three years.” He said in a flat voice that Louis loathed.

“Yes, Harry. It has been three years. You know absolutely nothing about magic, so don’t behave as though three years is enough time to know everything about my magic!” Louis snapped, anger flaring in his chest.

“I’m sorry.” Harry dropped his head, and pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes.

Louis felt awful and drained, and he wanted to be on the open road again. Preferably with Harry beside him, but without all these problems. It was an impossible dream.

“I know that it seems silly that I still don’t know much about my magic even though I’ve been travelling for three years. I know that I should have, but I still don’t understand. All the magickers that I have spoken to - only three, the rest chased me away - just yarned about knowing and feeling and working with it, and it makes no sense at all.”

When Louis had first started on his journey, he had been elated because his magic had simmered down and the cacophony of instincts that it had awakened had faded. Louis had felt a bit terrified, a bit excited, and the tiniest bit at home. He had been so sure then that he would learn all about his magic, would learn how to control this aberration that had come into his life, and then he would go back home, back to his real home.

Three years later he was still lost. His magic still scorched him if he used it, and Louis knew that staying in one place for a very long time would make it go haywire again. So, he stayed in one place for a month or two then he moved again.  The desire to travel had always been in him, and his magic had flamed that kernel. This sort of travel wearied him now. He didn’t want to be a lonely, anonymous traveller who was forgotten the moment he left. He wanted to travel for pleasure and with someone beside him. Someone to laugh with, someone to see the sunrise with, someone to eat with, someone to write poems for, someone to love.

Harry listened to his explanation with wide, unblinking eyes. Louis felt his cheeks heat even though he knew that Harry would never mock him. They had shared the deepest part of themselves before; it was easier to do that when they were in a wonky tent and surrounded by a vast, empty forest where they weren’t Prince Harry and Louis the magicker, when they were just Louis and Harry. And Harry always understood him, made him feel a little less lonely.

Harry shuffled closer to Louis, and pulled him into a hug. Louis slumped in Harry’s arms, and he pulled Harry closer before resting his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“I’m very fond of you.” Louis murmured. He paused for a moment. “I think I may love you.” He breathed in deeply and exhaled with a laugh. “I don’t know why you have such a fondness for etchings, or what they mean. And I bet that you don’t know the names of my sisters. That’s the sort of thing that one needs to know about the ones they love, right?”

“But you know my deepest secrets; you know the things that I haven’t shared with anyone else. I shared those things with you because I trust you, and you have done the same. These things are important too” Harry said.

“I think we’re going about this all wrong.” Louis said with a laugh.

“Yes.” Harry chuckled.

They were silent for a few minutes. Harry’s hand tightened around Louis before he spoke.

“I have three months for my bachelor’s ride. If you’re alright with it then I would like to come with you.”

“Harry...”

“And after that, even if you don’t come with me, I’m going to go the Council and I’m going tell them that I won’t consent to marriage. I don’t want to marry right now, and I think it’s about time I made a decision for myself.”

Louis ignored the tremble in his hands and the waver in his voice as he said: “I would like you to come with me.”

Louis also wanted to ask Harry if he would wait for him if he went back alone, but then decided to ask it sometime else. They had three months after all.

Harry sagged and it was then that Louis realised how tense Harry had been.

“Where shall we go?” Harry asked.

Louis closed his eyes and focused on the map in his mind. He jolted when he realised that the path had changed; the village he was supposed to go had faded away from the map, and instead a new path was marked out, a path that winded through the forest.

“I’ll lead the way.” Louis said eventually.

They untangled from the hug, and then they lay down beside each other on the grass. They  entwined their hands and watched the stars in silence.

**

They left early next morning.

Harry was silent beside him, lost in his thoughts, but Louis didn’t mind because was thinking about things, too.

Louis thought about his boyhood dreams of travelling, and how when his magic had blossomed, it had fanned this dream. He thought about how it had gone haywire when Louis had met Harry for the first time and how it had settled when he had met Harry again. How last night, the path he was supposed to take had changed.

Louis wondered if the answer to working with his magic lay in understanding it first, understanding his magic the way it seemed to understand him. Maybe he could start by not treating it as an alien, aberrant, hateful thing, and then when he understood it, Louis hoped that he would be able to work with it.

Louis suddenly felt very hopeful. He grabbed Harry’s hand and grinned at him.

“It is an old traveller’s tradition to sing when it is too silent. Let us sing.”

Harry nodded. “Yes. Let’s sing that song you wrote about finding one’s home.”

“That’s your most favourite song isn’t it, you horrid sap.” Louis teased.

Harry shrugged, unashamed.

Louis grinned and then started singing, his voice loud and bright. Harry joined him, and their voices echoed through the forest.

End.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Tell me what you think!
> 
> My [tumblr](http://steampunk-lou.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The photoset for this fic is [here](http://steampunk-lou.tumblr.com/post/155123976024/under-the-stars-heaven-is-not-so-far-pairing%22)


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